


So The Story Goes (Let It Go)

by red_crate



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 07:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Engagement parties suck unless you've got someone to fuck.Posted from livejournal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted as written in 2008.
> 
> Title from “Send My Love to the Dance Floor, I’ll See You in Hell (Hey Mister DJ)” by Cobra Starship.

“Fucking incestuous.” Bob mumbled into his ginger ale as his blue eyes grazed over the dancing bodies and smiling faces. When Gerard looked in his direction, Bob nodded and raised his glass in salute. He watched as Gerard gave him a questioning look before being swept away by Brendon Urie. Bob leaned against the wall and did his best impersonation of a Ficus.   
  
  
  
“You’re doing a fine job.” A slender woman with thick mahogany hair and smokey eyes had her head cocked slightly to the side as she sighed. “Mind if I join you?” She pointed to the empty space beside Bob. “Holding up the wall can be a bit tiring alone.”  
  
  
  
Bob shrugged and thought about the unique way this woman spoke. He eyed her as she leaned back, hands clasped behind her hips; her posture was childlike but her curves were very womanly. Bob looked forward again, suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
Pete ran from the crowd, horsey smile wide and obnoxious as he dodged between people to keep Travis from catching him. Ray was leaning down to say something into Alicia’s ear as Mikey clung to her side and swatted at Pete who was trying to use him as a shield. Eric Roberts made eyes at Jon Walker as Spencer Smith sulked behind his glass of water. Patrick Stump pushed through the press of bodies until he wrangled Pete and forced him to give Travis back his headband.  
  
Stomach doing a weird little flip, Bob dropped his gaze back down to his glass as he turned his wrist, making the melting ice turn in smooth circles. His eyes stole away from him and looked back at Patrick, stomach doing another flip.  
  
“How did you become entwined in this little web we called Pete and Patrick’s life?” The woman asked. She had her head turned, temple resting against the smooth stone of the wall. They were barely two feet away but Bob could barely hear her voice above the sound system of the club.  
  
Finding it a little disconcerting that this woman seemed to track Bob’s thoughts, Bob leaned closer and said, “We used to be roommates.” He held back a sigh. Sometimes the past was a tricky thing. When the woman raised her eyebrows as if asking, “so they invited you to their engagement party?” Bob clarified. “Patrick. Patrick lived with me for, like, a summer. Mikey and Pete were best friends on Warped.” The glass in his hands was cold and sweaty; he wanted to get rid of it.  
  
The woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh, okay. I know who you are then.” She smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, hand falling down to rest at her side. “He spoke to me about you once.” Bob watched as she fingered the hem to her grey dress with delicate fingers.  
  
A waiter dressed in black walked by, carrying a tray holding fresh glasses of champagne. Bob switched his empty glass for one of the flutes, just to occupy his hands. “I hope it was all good.” He stretched his lips, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. In the near distance, Bob could hear Frank’s laughter.  
  
Making an “Mm” sound, the woman turned her body towards Bob. “Something along the lines of you being a neat freak.” Her words were softened by a curve of the lips. “My Christian name is Victoria, but I prefer Vicky-T.” She held her hand out, formally introducing herself.  
  
“Robert.” Bob shrugged into the handshake. “Bob.” Giving her a lopsided grin, Bob told her, “It’s nice to meet you, Vicky-T.” Dropping her hand, Bob tongued the inside of his lip ring before asking, “How do you fit into this group?” He gestured to the rest of the room with his hand holding the flute of champagne.  
  
“Patrick’s technically my producer?” She wrinkled her forehead and smiled at her own accidental question. “They’re both friends of mine, but Patrick produced our last album. He and I share an undying love for David Bowie.” Her arms crossed loosely beneath her breasts; Bob tried not to notice how the fitted bodice of her dress accentuated her bust. “I’m relieved they are finally getting their acts together and going through with it.” She turned her head and stared at the throng of people reveling together in celebration. The small smile on her lips caught Bob’s attention and he was reminded of how long it had been since he had formed any kind of crush on a girl.  
  
“Bob! Where have you been! Hiding out in the shadows with Miss Vicky-T, shame on you!” Pete was suddenly in front of Bob, pulling at his arm. “And Miss Vicky-T, how dare you make everyone miss out on your dancing skills?” He grabbed her arm too, forcing both into the crowd. Bob exchanged a look with Vicky-T as Pete was distracted by Ryan Ross bumping hips with him.  
  
Ryan ducked his head so Pete could hear him. “I can’t believe he’s going to make an honest man out of you.” Ryan’s smile looked genuine, but Bob wondered how happy he really was. Brendon pounced on Ryan and drug him away before Ryan could say anything else.  
  
“Okay! You two dance!” Pete did a kind of “ta-dah” motion with his hands, like he was making magic by putting the two of them together. “I’m going to find my better half and have my way with him.” He winked before disappearing.  
  
“Pete is a crazy freak.” Bob held his hands out awkwardly and did a little shuffle as he tried to gage whether Vicky-T actually wanted to dance with him. She giggled and grasped Bob’s right hand, letting her other hand rest on Bob’s shoulder; they were dancing slowly, in a tight circle to a rap song like it was an eighth grade Valentine’s Day Dance.  
  
A chin on the shoulder from the wrong direction made Bob jump slightly as a deep voice asked, “Mind if I cut in?” Bob automatically dropped Vicky-T’s hand as though he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and moved away. Vicky-T rolled her eyes with an apologetic smile to Bob. The guy had a smile that was predatory like Pete’s and Bob could feel his stomach knotting up in defeat.  
  
“Gabriel, you’re so mean.” Vicky-T pushed at Gabriel, before catching one of his hands in hers and looking at Bob. “We will finish this later, yeah?” She ignored it when Gabriel slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, placing a kiss on her head as he stared at Bob.  
  
Shrugging, Bob said a weak, “Yeah.” Before waving them off and finding his way to the other side of the room. He made it to the bar without being hit on by a slightly drunk Bill Beckett, pushed by a brooding Spencer Smith, or cornered by a very talkative Gerard Way. At the bar, Bob exchanged the untouched flute of champagne for a squat shot of whiskey. The bartender seemed to contemplate Bob’s demeanor before finally handing over the Jack Daniels. Throwing it back, Bob focused on the burn as it cut down his esophagus.  
  
“Well if it isn’t Bob Bryar.” A familiar voice made Bob turn his head and find Patrick Stump at his side, grinning a little. He was wearing a black fedora, tipped to one side. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d shown up with the rest of the band.” He bumped into Bob’s side.  
  
Bob sighed. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Looking into Patrick’s hazel eyes which seemed to be wiser and more vibrant than he remembered, Bob swallowed down the hesitant flip of his stomach. “I’m really happy for you. I’m glad you’ve finally found what you were looking for.” Bob’s eyes flicked into the crowd to where Pete was probably schmoozing it up with all the guests.  
  
Cheeks tinted pink, Patrick nodded, “Yeah, it took us long enough…” He paused. “Look, I’m glad you came. I’ve missed hanging out with you, ya know? I mean, I always thought we’d become pretty good friends way back when.” Patrick looked a little sad as he stopped his words.  
  
“It was a long time ago.” Bob’s words were harsher than he liked. “But yeah, we had some good times.” He looked down at the dark lacquered wood of the bar; his glass was leaving rings. He picked his shot glass up and sat it back down, and repeated the motion a few times, making the sign of the Olympics with the condensation of the glass. Biting at his lip ring, Bob shrugged again, looking back at Patrick. “I miss our friendship too. Ever wonder what it would have been like if we’d never lived together?” He couldn’t help but ask.  
  
Patrick licked his lips and nodded his head a little. “Sometimes.” The look in his eyes was distant.  
  
Bob’s memory rewound to all those summers ago when Andy had made arrangements with Gerard to have Patrick move in with Bob. His mind played tricks on him, focusing on the sound of Patrick singing Frank Sinatra as he made breakfast, the way Patrick’s shirts clung to Bob’s in the dryer, or how Bob spent so many nights dreaming of pink lips and hazel eyes. Closing his eyes, Bob made himself remember why Patrick had needed to move in with Bob. Pete had been overly emotional that year, picking fights with Patrick over the little things, having crying fits. Information had been few and far between, coming in short messages from Andy, through Gerard, about how if Patrick had to spend one more day with Pete he was going to quit the band.  
  
“But he called, eventually.” Patrick broke Bob’s concentration. “He called and we made up. Everything’s been better ever since.” Bob watched as Patrick fingered the gold band around his ring finger. “Thanks, by the way.”  
  
Bob nodded before saying, “You and Pete were meant for each other; nothing and no one could stand in the way of that.” Almost as if on cue, Pete showed up, arms wrapping around his fiancé’s waist, dropping a kiss on Patrick’s cheek. Patrick turned to look up at Pete. “I see no one’s killed you yet.”  
  
“Lucky you.” Pete pointed out before kissing Patrick on the mouth. Bob silently wondered how the hell Mikey could handle this.  
  
Scanning the crowd to find any reason to leave the love birds, Bob’s sight landed on Vicky-T who was dancing against Gabriel in a very sexual manner. Gabriel skimmed a hand down Vicky-T’s side, curving to the inside of her thigh; Vicky-T laughed and elbowed Gabriel in the stomach. Bob might have excused himself to go to the bathroom, then again, he might have just shot off to the men’s room.  
  
Bob splashed water on his face, drinking some from his hand. It was cool and refreshing. He looked up at himself in the mirror and tried to figure out when he had become an angsting thirteen year-old girl. This may be technically the celebration of Pete and Patrick’s engagement, but it was, more or less, Bob’s ultimate Pity Party.  
  
“Shh. Someone’s in here.” A male voice hissed to whoever it was that was giggling in the handicapped stall. Bob rolled his eyes when he caught Travis’ afro poking out above the door in the reflection. Two out of three guesses told Bob that Bill was probably the one giggling. Banging the door open with a little more force than necessary, Bob decided it was time to leave, now.  
  
“Who are you racing?” Vicky-T looked behind Bob as she stopped him in his tracks. Her face was flushed from dancing and her chest was heaving ever so slightly. She poked her bottom lip out. “Are you leaving?”  
  
“Yeah. I…uh…yeah.” Bob shrugged and chewed at his lip ring. His eyes tracked the faces in the crowd. “Where’s Gabriel?”  
  
“Gabe? Oh, he is getting some water. Would you like to finish that dance now?” The way she looked so hopeful made Bob question his convictions on leaving so soon. “One dance.” She grabbed one of Bob’s hands and placed it on her hip, causing Bob to momentarily forget where he was staying. She arched an eyebrow. “Are you up for it?”  
  
Bob couldn’t help but grin and duck his head a little. He cautiously took hold of Vicky-T’s hips walking her closer to him. When she dropped her arms around Bob’s shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder, Bob closed his eyes and listened to the music. He didn’t miss the way Vicky-T’s hips rubbed into him with each movement of their feet. Somewhere to his left, Bob could hear Frank squealing about walking in on Travis and Bill in the bathroom. Bob laughed quietly and thought he might have felt Vicky-T cuddle into his chest.  
  
“See, this wasn’t so terrible.” Vicky-T smiled up at him. She let her fingers play in stray hair at the back of Bob’s head, causing goose bumps to run up and down his arms. “I’m happy I caught you before you ran away. Gabe can be a little possessive sometimes.” She shrugged one shoulder, tilting her head to the side and giving him these eyes that made Bob want to feel possessive of her.  
  
“So…you two are…” Bob couldn’t quite finish the question.  
  
Vicky-T’s eyes got big and she laughed. “Together? No. God no. He is like a brother…or a cousin. We are not dating.” She stopped laughing before looking straight into Bob’s eyes. “I’m not dating anyone.”  
  
It was hard for Bob to hold back the grin that threatened to hijack his mouth. “Oh.” Instead he pulled Vicky-T closer inhaled the strawberry scent of her hair.  
  
Somehow, they kept dancing through almost three songs before anyone interrupted them. Spencer slammed into Vicky-T, almost causing her to fall if it hadn’t been for Bob keeping her steady. Bob glared at Spencer before he realized Jon was the one throwing the punches. Spencer yelled and tried to duck but caught the fist in his jaw.  
  
“What the fuck is going on?” Bob demanded as he instinctively went for Jon’s hands. Gabe and Travis were already trying to pull the man back from Spencer. Vicky-T and Ryland were looking Spencer over while trying to keep him from attacking Jon.  
  
“He’s fucking drunk!” Jon yelled as he absentmindedly cradled his bruised knuckles against his chest. Bob could smell the alcohol on Jon’s breath and shook his head as Spencer called Jon a slut.  
  
Pete and Patrick pushed their way through the crowd around Spencer and Jon. Patrick’s face was red with anger; Pete’s eyebrows were furrowed with annoyance. “What happened?” Patrick looked directly at Jon.  
  
Jon shrugged Gabe and Travis off and shrugged. “Nothing. We’re cool.” He looked over Bob’s shoulder at Spencer who was glaring at him while Vicky-T held a linen napkin full of ice to his jaw.  
  
Patrick looked at Spencer. “Lover’s quarrel.” Spencer practically spat the words out. Bob noticed that Eric was no where to be seen.  
  
Pete stepped in front of Patrick and attempted damage control. “Okay, well, now that the fight’s over, how ‘bout we all go back to the night’s previous festivities?” He pointed at Jon and Spencer. “You two need to chill out.”  
  
Patrick pulled Pete away and suddenly everything was back to normal. Ryan had taken over the care of Spencer and Brendon and Travis were trying to talk Jon down from his righteous indignation. Bob looked at Vicky-T. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.”  
  
“You could at least walk me to my hotel room.” She crossed her arms.  
  
Bob said “okay” and gestured for her to lead the way. Outside the club, the sky was black and the buildings around them were light up. It was a warm, dry night in LA. “Where are you staying?”  
  
“Over there.” Vicky-T pointed to the top of the Hilton. She linked arms with Bob. “It’s always something of an adventure when you’re at a party with the FBR crew.” There was a smile in her voice, as if she was amused by fist fights and drunken make-out sessions.  
  
“I think it’s going to always be an adventure when Pete is involved.” Bob looked behind his shoulder to the club which was quickly leaving his view as they rounded a corner.  
  
Walking down the sidewalk with Vicky-T, Bob was reminded of old Hollywood movies. There was something in Vicky-T’s style and characteristics that made Bob think of Audrey Hepburn and ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’ Vicky-T had that charm and sex appeal. All too soon, Bob realized they had made it up to her hotel room. As she slid the key card back into her purse, holding the door open with a hand on the door knob, Bob wanted to ask for her number. “Would you like to come inside?” Her voice was solid and not self-conscious in the least.  
  
Bob hesitated, unsure of the right answer. Vicky-T turned, pushing the door all the way open, letting it close slowly as she walked away, unzipping the back of her dress for Bob to see. Without even thinking, Bob stepped inside and locked the door behind him.  
  
The hotel room was dark, but the light pouring in through the open windows of the hotel room revealed Vicky-T stepping out of her dress in nothing but a pair of pink cheekies and her black and silver high heels. Bob paused, staring. Vicky-T wrapped her arms around her breasts, shielding them and walked up to Bob, pressing against his chest. She leaned in, lips wet and oh so close to Bob’s “Is this alright?”  
  
“Definitely.” Bob closed the distance between them and grazed a hand up Vicky-T’s arm, to her shoulder, until it made its way to tangle into her lush locks of mahogany.  
  
Vicky-T tasted like sparkling water and chocolate. She dropped her arms, raking her fingers across Bob’s back as she pushed her bare breasts against his t-shirt clad chest. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. Bob groaned when skin-to-skin contact was finally made. Her nipples were hard against his. He took one breast in hand, tweaking the tipple and rolling it until Vicky-T was panting into his mouth.  
  
Bob trailed kisses down Vicky-T’s jaw, licking and nipping the sensitive skin until he made it to her earlobe where he paid extra attention because Vicky-T had started to make little keening noises in the back of her throat as she undid his belt and zipper. When she had his jeans pushed down to the floor and her hand worked into his boxers, Bob picked her up by the hips and gently slammed her against the wall, using it for leverage. Vicky-T locked her ankles around his waist and sucked on his adam’s apple, most likely leaving a hickey. She rocked her hips against the bulge in his boxers, moaning and pleading.  
  
The way Vicky-T was making noises made Bob want to fuck her quick and dirty, but he had the presence of mind to pull her off him and drop to his knees, yanking her delicate panties out of the way. He swirled his tongue in the little dip of her belly button, liking the way her fingers were threading through his hair like he was her pet. He dipped lower, trailing his tongue against her hip bone, leaving short, hard bites before pressing the flat of his tongue to ease the pain. One hand rested on her hips as the other one massaged the inside of her thigh, making an agonizingly slow journey upwards as Bob’s mouth made its way lower.  
  
She was already wet and ready when Bob’s middle finger found it’s way to her clit, rubbing it in circles at alternating speeds. Vicky-T’s fingernails raked against his scalp as she pushed his head down, moaning. He thrust one finger inside after his tongue finally made its way to her pussy, licking softly and fast. He let the scruff on his chin rub slightly against the overly sensitive flesh, causing Vicky-T to shudder and clench around his finger. He wanted her to scream. Spending a few more minutes eating her out, Bob pulled away and stood, crushing his lips to Vicky-T’s so she could taste herself on his tongue.  
  
Vicky-T pulled herself back up Bob’s torso, wrapping her legs around his waist with a little help. She arched her back as Bob rubbed the head of his dick against her clit. “Are you on the pill?” She nodded and let out a low moan when Bob pushed deep inside her, stretching in a delicious way. The wet, tight heat of Vicky-T was enough to make Bob go momentarily blind. He dropped his head to her neck as he pounded into her. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades as she tilter her hips to the right angle, moaning out his name. Recognizing her sudden jerky movement, Bob matched her rhythm, clenching his teeth as he fought off his own climax. Vicky-T spasmed in his arms, screaming and arching more as her hands grabbed at his skin. Her muscles contracted around his dick and he had to slow down before he lost it. His legs were shaking. “Gotta move.”  
  
Bob carried Vicky-T to the bed, setting her on her back before crawling back on top of her. In the darkness of the room, her eyes glinted as she grinned up at him, looking happy as could be. She pulled him down in a hug as she pushed her hips up to meet his. Reentering her was just as exhilarating as the first time. Bob moaned as Vicky-T sucked on his neck, below his ear, almost purring. With each thrust, her voice hitched and it was possibly the hottest thing he’d ever heard. Raising her legs up higher, until her knees were right below his shoulders, Vicky-T gave Bob full access to go as hard and as fast as he wanted. “Fuck me.” She hissed in his ear, ending the “me” in an almost-whine. She was working on another orgasm, Bob could tell. He pushed his hips deeper, taking longer strides as Vicky-T tangled her hands in her own hair and screamed again.  
  
The movement of her breasts caught Bob’s attention; he bent down and sucked one into his mouth, pressing his tongue against the pert little peak. Oh Shit, this was going to be it. Bob let his eyes close as his tempo got faster and faster, bucking into her pelvis with all his might. Vicky-T matched thrust for thrust, holding onto his defined biceps. His legs started to shake and suddenly behind his lids he saw white as the fire that had been building in his lower abdomen exploded. He came in waves, spilling into her. Vicky-T giggled, basking in the feeling.  
  
After he was able to move again, Bob pulled out and rolled over. Vicky-T curled around his side and sighed contentedly.  
  
“You’re not dating anyone, huh?” Bob looked at the woman beside him and thanked God for unrequited love and stupid engagement parties.  
  
Vicky-T arched an eyebrow and smiled. “No. Are you?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
  



End file.
